Dusk and Summer
by SilkenBone922
Summary: Blair can run from New York but she cant hide. Will her over seas affair with Carter Baizen have any bearing at all on her life at Yale or will it simply fade into the past? CarterBlair future fic
1. Mistaken Musk

Their romance fell somewhere between farce and tragedy

Their romance fell somewhere between farce and tragedy. In the movie of her life- the one she re scripted on a daily basis- it was all kinds of wrong. He simply refused to fit into any of the hashed out characters and plot sequences she had spent so many years carefully selecting. He wasn't the prince or the stable boy or the reformed play boy.

Stubbornly, defiantly he would not be anyone but himself. And she had to admit to herself that frustrating as this was, it was still very attractive. He was rough around the edges but slick at the core. He made no pretence of any redeeming quality, he didn't skulk or brood and compared to emo behaviour radiating from every one of her ex boyfriends at the moment this was- refreshing to say the least.

They defied destiny and scorned the stars. They were so far from compatible that after that first night in Prague, waking up beside him in the deep cashmere sheets she freaked out worse than she ever had before. Not even the lack of romance from her deflowering could compare with the horror of breaking dawn in Carter Baizen's arms.

She was on the phone all morning with shrinks, fortune tellers and ex best friends, desperate for someone to shed some light on the situation at hand. The general consensus was the same. It was imperative that she forget all about her tryst with the handsome outlaw and strive to move on. Serena also recommended a medical check up because she was fairly sure the Baizen carried diseases.

And so she took the next flight to France, hyperventilating all the way to Paris when she realized her little ruby ring was on _his_ bedside table and she would never see it again. And she would never see him again was another thought.

Her mind whirled when the plane finally touched ground, her legs wobbling as she teetered into the limousine that was to drive her to her father's house. Memories of that night must be erased. She was going to have to forget how he stood there, tall and sexy and utterly bewildered to see her. She would forget how her heart leap when he bent low over her hand, his lips brushing over the skin and igniting a liquid fire within her. Its flames skimmed over her body, causing to move closer to him as he talked about his covert new job, his numerous adventures and how he'd never ever looked back.

It was all she could do to keep her head while they talked, stumbling over her polite responses to his every question. She could barely recall the answers herself. What was she doing in _Prague_, of all places? How _was_ Serena? And the rest of their _little rat pack_? Wasn't it _such_ a coincidence that they'd bumped into each other? To think he'd almost gone straight to Vienna, only making this little detour to see the one European master piece he had yet to see. And wasn't it simply _wonderful_ he's done so.

And then next thing she knew she'd dropped her snotty tone and forgotten he was an outlaw. She cut him off mid sentence and was demanding to know when exactly he was going to stop talking and start kissing her.

Minutes later, she was pressed up against the wall of the elevator, mouth fastened to his, riding up and waiting for him to toss her on to his huge king sized bed because it just _happened_ to be one of those months that Daddy Dearest was pleased with him and the family coffers were in easy access and have his wicked way with her.

She'd never slept more deeply in her life. He was already awake when she opened her eyes and he smiled at her dazed expression. A few kisses peppered over her lips and cheeks and he was out the door with the promise of breakfast to satisfy her rumbling stomach.

This was when she had snatched up her phone and racked up a bill the size of the Atlantic. The jury's verdict was more drastic than she could have imagined so she tugged on her red dress from the night before, absentmindedly fixed her hair and rushed out of the room with her heels in her hands before the hunter and gatherer could return.

And here she was now, crying in to Cat's fur and wondering why it didn't rain harder. Because she had lost her ruby ring to Carter and nothing would ever be the same again. She wished for a tropical storm to come and just drown her away.

The weeks passed slowly and rather well. Serena called a lot because she basically thought B was having a mental breakdown and couldn't see why else Blair would sleep with Upper East Side scum. It was really worse than her own brief affair with Dan because Dan was born to Brooklyn. He didn't have the effrontery to actually throw away a position of New York royalty. The thought gave the blonde a certain self righteous pleasure in finally having the moral high ground with Miss Prim and Proper and if Blair nurtured any objections to her holier than thou take on the situation she had yet to show it. She was meek. It was a kind of blessed travesty.

She was thankful that her former bestie had refrained from mentioning her latest indiscretion to the fearsome Eleanor Waldorf. Her mother was always ready to have a meltdown at the drop of a hat and the knowledge that her only offspring, currently across the pond to promote her latest fashion line during her college break, had made use of her time by spending the night with a Baizen _that_ Baizen in particular may just cause her to liquefy New York City.


	2. Ring My Bell

The relief of a non hysterical mother was countered by the loss of her ring

The relief of a non hysterical mother was countered by the loss of her ring. Its absence form her finger made her jittery. More so than she would have liked to acknowledge to the loving father and attentive Roman who were willing to wait on her hand and foot.

And then, a week before her flight back to the US of A, on Lyon's rainiest ever night, Carter Baizen arrived at her door step. Blair's gasp was audible. She was peeking through her bedroom windows, breathing more deeply with every step that he took to cross the vineyard. He looked like a drowned rat on the stoop of the villa, his wet hair slicked down over his fore head.

She half rushed out of her bedroom, heart beating at a frantic pace, but soon thought the better of it and dashed back in. She spent a good half hour, combing through her wardrobe and finally selecting a black skirt and ruffled blouse. Collegiate and sexy and a perfect reminder of just who she was. Blair Waldorf. She added a hair band for good measure.

She was somewhat more composed when she descended the stairs. She feigned surprise at his presence which was easy to manage because he looked very comfortable talking to her father and his boyfriend. The only other guy to get along with both her dads was Chuck.

Pushing both the thoughts out of her head, she forced a smile and politely greeted Carter. "Blair Bear," said her father happily, "Carter was just telling us how you two met up this summer. You didn't tell me anything about this."

"It was nothing," explained Carter, dismissively, "I took your daughter out for dinner and we had a wonderful evening. She was there promoting Eleanor's new line after a sojourn to Milan and it reminded me of how my father urged me to visit his business associates and old friends during my trip. Seeing Blair's initiative I was inspired to take some myself and come out here to visit you. After all, you were one of Dad's best ever lawyers."

"I was certainly his longest legal relationship," laughed Harold, alluding to the elder Baizen's uncanny habit of flipping lawyer, "And certainly we parted on more amicable terms than most. His latest is in Santa Monica with your second step mother isn't he?"

Carter grinned his assent, only listening with a half ear to Harold as he talked of people from his long abandoned world. He felt a certain affinity to the man. After all they'd both left the golden life, for admittedly different reasons. But it was liberating to meet someone else who had once been part of the Upper East Side legacy and was now out of the bubble. Mr Waldorf had always strived to preserve one of his ties with New York. His daughter Blair, whose flushed cheeks and lovely legs now claimed most of Carter's attention.

He directed a secret wink her direction and had the pleasure of seeing the blush intensify. He had never seen her porcelain skin infused with such colour and was darn proud of it. He really had just dropped in to say hello, maybe sneak Blair her ring in the process but her utter discomfort at his presence was enjoyable not to mention the fact that she looked even more beautiful than he had remembered.

So he accepted an invitation to stay for dinner, just to infuriate her and see what new side of her it brought out. The girl who'd kissed him that night without a moment's hesitation was a far cry from the prim little princess who scribbled Mrs Nathaniel Archibald over her note books. That girl would surely have felt some compulsion in hooking up with a man who was little better than a complete stranger.

She couldn't have completely changed though. The situation was unusual enough to make her deeply uncomfortable and when his hand brushed against hers at dinner she flinched. They sat opposite each other in the candlelight with her two dads on either side. The meal was served in the patio, so he could hear the rustling of her silk dress as she fidgeted and squirmed and the cricket's tiny voices during the lull in conversation. It all seemed like the perfect meeting of the world he inhabited and the one he'd left.

He cocked an eyebrow when she excused herself, waiting a beat before he followed her in, thankful that Roman and Harold were too taken up with each other to notice.

"Blair," he breathed into her ear, catching her arm as she exited the bathroom. She backed into the wall of the narrow corridor, disentangling herself from his light grip.

"You're invading my personal space, Baizen," she snapped shakily when he moved toward her.

"The way you invaded my personal space two weeks ago? Because if memory serves, and it usually does, that ended pleasurably for the both of us," replied Carter smirking and coming closer still.

"That was a mistake..." started Blair catching herself when she realized how familiar those words sounded. They were the self same words that slipped off her tongue after every encounter she had with Chuck. She groaned at the thought of the hotelier's son wondering if his step sister had told him. She could already imagine his conviction that it was their latest break up that sent her spinning into the swindler's arms.

The swindler was now looking particularly smarmy but before another lecherous, Bass-like comment could leave his mouth; the girl brought the full force of her heel down on his toe, ignoring the goose bumps that his proximity and husky undertone had bestowed her with.

He followed her back outside as she stalked away from the scene of the crime. His intention to depart was voice and left her with a hollow sense of victory. She acknowledged a smidgeon of disappointment that he had abandoned the chase so willingly.

Her offer to walk him to the door was for purely superficial reasons. She had to know of he had her ring.

She confronted him about it after the goodbyes were said and a wily Roman had tactfully dragged of her father. They strolled through the gardens and up to the gate, stopping under the gazebo. He grinned his sexy grin and slipped the ring onto her finger, the touch and poignant gesture had the combined effect of a shiver running down her back.

"Good night, Blair," came the husky whisper as he bent low to kiss her cheek, brushing against the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted in astonishment at the contact and moved to capture his. And then his hands were cupping her face and their bodies slipped together like magnets and the heavens burst forth their joy in a summer shower and something about the level of distraction that Carter Baizen led her to made her forget that rain was essentially wet.

They stumbled onto the slippery floor clutching at each other, spending a great part of the night out doors before she finally complained of her aching back and dripping clothes. He too professed an interest in avoiding pneumonia, so they dragged each other up to her room, padding up the stairs as quietly as possible.

When she woke up the next morning with him in her bed, in her father's house, she tried very hard to be more ashamed than amused. He groggily arose, arm still wrapped around her. When the nature of their surroundings was brought to his notice he leapt out of his skin and scrambled around the room gathering up his clothes and resolving to jump through the window. He had always heard his father say that Harold Waldorf was a keen shot who always kept his hunting rifle loaded.

He stubbed his toe against her vanity in a hurry to be dressed and his yelp of pain brought Roman and Cat into the room. She had the supreme pleasure of seeing his ears redden as he stammered out an apology. Roman's wink and assurance that Harold never rose before 10 was comforting.

He returned to her in relief, slowly regaining his composure and climbing back into bed half clothed. Her resistance to his kisses and caresses was unwelcome.

"No Carter," she protested, as his lips skilfully manipulated her, "You need to leave."

"It's only 7," he mumbled, between kisses, "Your dad won't be up for another 3 hours. That gives us more than enough time…"

"To get you out of here and forget all about this," said Blair, finishing his sentence for him.

He was off of her as quick as lightning and went back to making himself look presentable. She was surprised by his compliance and went to help him fix his tie but he rejected her advances, curtly letting her know he was going down to have break fast and he hoped she had a good summer.

Her shock, as he grabbed his jacket and shut the door behind him, was palpable. Her past love affairs had taught her to expect resilience, persistence. Those were the signs of a devoted man- of a besotted man. What could possibly be said for someone who followed her across Europe but lost heat the moment she rebuffed him?

So she followed him downstairs with genuine curiosity. He was chatting with Roman at the breakfast table and when he saw her come down in her robe, her hair slightly dishevelled and her lips swollen from his passionate onslaught, she could see his bobbing Adam's apple reflect his gulp. And then he left.


	3. Sporadic Heartbearts

He was back again the next morning

He was back again the next morning. His breakfast invitation sounded sincere and he seemed almost abashed by her assent. He helped her into her coat and held open the door of his car. It was vintage but it must have been new to him because his eyes lit up when it rumbled into life.

Her perplexity was augmented when he drove up to her favourite café. "Roman told me," was his frank declamation.

"Two coffees," he said to the man behind the counter.

"Weak and sweet," she interjected.

"Bitter and strong." His smile was a challenge.

"One chocolate croissant."

"Muffin, please."

His French was flawless. His peat bog eyes bore into her as she sipped her coffee, wondering what to say next. It had been easy to influence Nate and making plans with Chuck had always escalated into all out war that just led to sex. The thought made her blush and that made him smile.

"You're pretty when you blush." His soft tone was at odds with the wicked glint in his dark eyes. He looked laid back, in the grey argyle sweater, hair mussed and lazy smirk firmly in place.

"I don't know what to make of you," she confessed. She was bleary eyed still and therefore able to blame her listlessness on the early hour.

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. "Meaning what?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I thought that part was obvious." When she remained silent he took it upon himself to elaborate.

"You're hot," he said, helping himself to another muffin.

She decided to show her disapproval with carefully conjured silence- icy as it gets. The Baizen seemed largely unaffected by this, his appetite just as healthy as it had ever been.

The morning breakfasts became matter of course. It was almost like they were- _perish the thought_- dating. He drove her into town and met with his own business associates while she pitched Eleanor Waldorf Designs to Parisian fashionistas. They fought over dinner plans and watched movies. He couldn't quite fathom her obsession with Audrey and encouraged the black and white obsession to venture into the domain of James Dean. She couldn't stand Coldplay which he played mercilessly in the car.

There were times when he kissed her, and as his stubble brushed against her own smooth skin she realized with a jolt, that he was so much older. It wasn't just the age; it was that look in his eyes. Sort of world weary and mature.

The Upper East Side kids had all had their fair share of traumatic experiences and with the scars to prove it and a shrink on speed dial each, it could be said they were all a tad jaded.

Carter was a bit more than cynical though. He had this innate wisdom, that she was ashamed to say really turned her on. Maybe it was the thrill of dating someone who had done more, seen more and been more that the bubble she lived in.

He'd travelled Europe the real way first, back packing across the globe and fending for himself. He'd slept on more than just soft beds and seen more than just the inside of the hotel lobby and Chanel outlet of every city he'd visited. And yet there he was- The prodigal son returned. Pairing his legacy to the wealth of experiences that she could only dream of into one incredibly unpredictable and admittedly well formed package.

He was pleasantly devoid of morals and nothing on the planet was sacred as far as he was concerned. So he had absolutely no qualms in wining and dining with Harold as a prospective business partner and attending conferences with him, all the while sneaking into his house in the middle of the night to fuck his college age daughter with out a care in the world for the old man's feelings.

And yet despite his carpe diem attitude, he treated her with the kind of effortless devotion she had always longed for. He brought her little trinkets just because he felt like it, held her through the night when they finally fell to sleep. He was kind and cruel by turns but always attentive. His gaze never wandered and if he was extremely loath to apologize after their occasional heated exchanges, he always kissed her after wards with a tinge of repentance, lightly and chastely.

In spite of all this time that they spent together, she still got the feeling that this was all just another game to him. Another adventure. To sleep with the boss daughter in secret and conduct an affair by midnight. Or to date the Upper East side princess his mom would have loved him to marry.

It wasn't a real relationship. It wasn't even anything as tangible as a summer fling because he was a whole different brand of sleaze.

They never really talked about it all. There were no expectations and no strings attached and Blair didn't want them, she reminded herself. All she wanted was to have a good a time as was possible before hitting the books at Yale. And Carter Baizen was sure fire solution to that.


End file.
